Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 18•

•Word Count: 2,290

It took Clara series of immense cajoling to get me back on my riddle solving mission, suggesting that finding solutions to the riddle(s) means finding answers to my many questions, one of which is the identity of the sender.

There's prominent logic behind her claim, which, as any other issue Clara offered advice on, impels me into holding back from reporting the riddles to the police, in response to her claiming that if it's someone with an intention to hurt us, they had a lot of opportunities to do.

Besides, she said, the police here in Strasbourg will either dismiss the issue as a juvenile crush -that a person is just charming his way to win our attention.
Or they'll laugh, pat our heads, and tell us to go play somewhere else.

She's absolutely right.

Who would believe a girl that has only moved in here a few months ago, with none a logical explanation for the absence of her parents and her being the only legal guardian to her baby sister ?
Not to mention the amount of money in my bank account that doesn't match my studying in an all-English school nor my former job at the café.

And my new job as a flight attendant is another mortifying reason that makes me scratch police off my list and swear to never cast a glance at the police station when passing by.
I'll have to be a New York Times best selling author to come up with a plausible backstory that explains my getting the job without implying that I've cheated my way into the position.

So basically, it seems this is my fight, and I'm gonna have to fight it on my own, even unarmed.

Also, the men Elias posted just outside gave us a sense of security none other than moving to the house in Colmar with Herr Bastian and Frau Marlene would have offered.

I have considered moving, but decided it'll have to remain a mere idea pushed into the back of my head, until I've finished high school because the two hour trip is just too tiring and, not to mention, time consuming.
I make a mental note to ask Armin, Herr Bastian and Frau Marlin's youngest and my long lost childhood best friend, how he manages that, when I see him at school tomorrow.

The two riddles sit proudly atop my desk, taunting me into yielding.
I decide to start with the first one, with the theory that solving one might provide insight to a clue -if not an answer- to the second one.

Reunited with the riddle once again, I glare at the piece of paper, as though it holds a huge fraction of accountability at the chaos that's forcing its way into my life.

One: I'm highest in rank,
I'm a hole in the Milky Way.
-That one I know: Black Hole

Two: I'm second in rank,
I'm a regular guest in times of war.

Overcome with the frustration that seems to always linger where these riddles are concerned, I close my eyes, in a meditative stance, and rummage through my ill-functioning brain, in hopes of stumbling upon something.

I have to have come across something in all my eighteen years in life, right?

A maze of words and a sea of possibilities intersect my hunt for an answer, giving me the impression that I'm going in the right direction.
But, it seems my brain took this to a different level because before I know it, I'm transported back to the night of the inferno.

I'm surfing with difficulty through the adverse wave of memory, before a single word pushes itself right before my eyes -just behind my lids.
With an unnerving jolt and a gasp, my eyes shoot open with an easy answer that should've crossed my mind earlier than this.